Love Story

 

 

She said she loved me and offered me her life.

Initially, I was touched - it was the first time that had ever happened to me. But after a while my shoulders started hurting: there’s no such thing as a light, easily wielded life. Being submissive and obedient, I put the heavy load on my back and headed straight for the mountain. Her life was awkwardly balanced, and sometimes it would rub against my shoulder blades, which made my skin begin to chafe, turn red, and wear thin. When one side hurt a lot, I would arch my back and try to shift the weight to the other side.

Before I had completed the first part of the journey I noticed that one of my ribs had shifted and was digging into my stomach. I got worried and wanted to get rid of the burden, which solemnly swore she loved me and settled down more comfortably on my shoulders.

With my rib digging into my stomach, it was hard to eat or move, but I discovered a new way of breathing - in two steps, the first slow and shallow, the second deeper. This allowed me to continue walking. I noticed that as I was walking a lot of people would stop to congratulate me. Word of her love had spread and I became vaguely famous. My feet were bleeding and I gave up wearing shoes. I wished that like one of those huge sea turtles I had a thousand-year-old shell to protect my back.

Under the weight of her life, I began to walk with a stoop. I couldn’t see the sky or the tops of trees, birds flying through the air, or the butterflies flittering on stormy days. Although sometimes I really missed the clouds and rainbows, I got used to slouching and to seeing only what was on the ground.

In the beginning, when I would stop at the bank of a pristine river to have a drink or to rest for a while, she would let me put her life on the ground (I would watch her carefully while eating or drinking so she wouldn’t get lost or be carried off by a stranger). That way I could rest a little. But one day, when we’d been walking for a while, she announced her decision never to leave me. Under all that weight, I couldn’t raise my head to look at her, but it was obvious how adamant she was about it. She said her decision was born of a deep love for me. Although my back was doubled over, my muscles were trembling, my feet were lacerated and my rebellious ribs were moving about, I had the privilege of her undivided love.

‘She can’t go on being stuck to me if I don’t want her to be,’ I thought to myself as I moved my shoulders to better accommodate the load. The mountain was near and at any moment I would begin the frightening ascent. ‘No matter how much she protests,’ I continued, ‘I’ll still be able to put her down for a moment to have a drink or to sleep, no matter how much she cries or nags or pretends to be sick: all I have to do is shake my shoulders and she’ll fall off.’ But I was wrong. When I tried to shake her off my back and put her on the ground for a moment, I discovered I couldn’t. Her vital organs had been secreting a yellowish liquid, a viscous substance that dried and made her stick to me once and for all. With the determination of a castaway, I used my hands to try and break the hard crust that joined us. ‘It’s no use,’ she told me from just above my kidneys. ‘My love will last forever, it’s unbreakable, indestructible. It flows from my breasts and hardens as soon as it reaches you, the metal that sticks to your ribs comes from my womb. Now we’ll never be apart,’ she said triumphantly.

I shook in vain, trying to free myself of the burden. I only managed to get myself even more tired. Like a clumsy snail slowly plodding on under the weight of its shell, with each step I took I unwillingly carried her with me. I even thought to get close to the mountain and brutally smash my load against the hard, insomnious rocks. But I quickly realized that, like a raging beast, I would destroy myself at the same time.

So I began the ascent. The secretions from her organs, sticky liquids spilling onto my hands, came more frequently and numbed my fingers. Thick layers made one part of my body stick to another, which made it even harder for me to move. I felt her secretions flowing over my back, making the crust that joined us stronger and stronger.

At night I would be exhausted and sleep fitfully, wet from the liquids that flowed now and then from her armpits, pores, and legs. One morning I woke up and found my mouth was covered with a sticky yellow mesh that prevented me from speaking. While moving around in her sleep she had exhaled the sinewy strands that had hardened on my lips. I struggled to break the film, but it was impossible: I was ascending the mountain a mute.

It’s a difficult ascent. My back is getting more stooped all the time. I no longer see other people on the trail; it’s not just because we’re in a remote, dangerous part of the mountain: if I were to cross paths with someone, I wouldn’t even notice because I’m so hunched over under all this weight. In addition, my fame has died out and, being so skinny, with my bones exposed and all these shell-like scabs, I don’t think anyone would recognize me.

I’m not concerned about making it to the end of the journey. The summit is still a long way off and I’ll never reach it. Anyway, I’m old, or at least I look very old. I know I’ll die soon and I’ve tried to warn her. I’m getting thinner all the time, there’s no skin left on my feet, my bones are protruding. Since the shell makes it impossible for me to speak or eat, I warned her by gesticulating. She immediately comforted me. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I offered you my life; how could you not give me yours?’